Last weekend Elly and Jean-Hughes took a little holiday and I found myself alone in Aix. I got the chance to walk around in my underpants until 2PM drinking coffee, one of my favorite activities. A little rejuvenating solitude is always just the thing to restore my spirits.
The city of Aix-en-Provence is an old Roman town, originally a military station connecting the empire with the wilderness of Gaul. Everywhere you look there are Roman fountains, an old aqueduct, an underground catacomb. Laid on top of this structure is the provençal lifestyle with its simple, country cuisine, big markets and slow pace. The final layer of the town is newly acquired prosperity and chic facade: the stylish and attractive young people, the Dior shop on every corner and the white, modern restaurants. It seems like a resort town that could be in any number of Western countries, but there's a certain charm to the town...like a little layer cake of unique cuteness.
While Elly and Jean-Hughes were away I took an afternoon to wander around, and was swept up in the enchanting moment of being alone in Provence. I indulged my little girl fantasies of France one night by having a dinner of cheeses, foie gras, chocolate and pink wine while watching Sofia Coppola's Marie-Antoinette. After the movie was over, I went out to sit on the patio. Our apartment is on the top floor of an old building on a narrow street. From there I have a wonderful view of the neighbors, especially if I climb onto the tiled roof. It was like getting a bonus reel. One of my favorite past-times has always been to walk around neighborhoods at dusk. At this time of night people usually have their lights turned on but haven't yet closed their drapes, so you can peer into their private world. You see a couple making dinner, a woman talking on the phone and picking at her toes, or someone just sitting in front of the television. Usually people aren't doing anything terribly interesting, but there is a certain twilight calmness that I find in seeing these mundane moments. You also just get to see the insides of their houses or apartments. I'm always surprised by how many folks live with bare white walls...no posters, pictures or paint...just unadorned sheet rock. It's depressing, but an interesting peek into the mind of most of humanity. So as I was sitting on the little porch in Provence I was able to see the woman two floors down sitting at her computer, typing something, her lax face blue from the glow of the screen. I also saw a man in his Euro-brief undies hopping around on one foot trying to make dinner for himself. It's moments like these that make me delighted to be alone, to just watch and smile and not need to try communicating with anyone why something so insignificant as a nearly-naked and limping man brings me so much joy.
I also took a little adventure over the weekend to see an event called "Transhumance." In a small town called Eguilles, about 11 kilometers from Aix, they hold a yearly festival celebrating the moving of their sheep herds to summer pastures. The shepherds parade their flocks through the village, do some dancing, break some bread and get a blessing from the local priest. Apparently, this is fairly common practice in rural Europe. I arrived by bus on Sunday morning for the mass. I'll spare you the comedy-of-errors portion of the tale and just skip right to the details of the event. It was a traditional service, highlighted with music from the local "peasant" band: a group of people in head-scarves and vests who played flutes, drums and other rustic instruments. They brought one symbolic sheep inside for the mass and after communion the whole procession moved into the square where they joined the rest of the flock. The priest said a prayer for the health and safety of the sheep and sprinkled some holy water in their general direction. The ewes seemed a little freaked out and the music played on.
Overall, the event was nothing to write home about, but there was a moment during the mass that so clearly exemplified why I love being alone. I have to preface this by saying that I was raised deep in the church...going to church three times a week, marrying a youth pastor at 19, being exorcised twice kind of raising. My earlier anger and rebellion from this upbringing has mellowed, much to my surprise. What remains is a calm, soft place inside of myself that feels awe and mystery at very unexpected moments. I had such a moment at the church service for the sheep. The priest was transforming the communion. He took first the wafer and raised it to the heavens, concentrating and incanting. Then he took the cup of wine and did the same. After lifting both the wafer and the wine, this powerful, beautifully robed, old man bent his knees and bowed before the communion table. His posture when he knelt said that this kneeling was neither ritualistic nor obligatory. I have felt this same overwhelming moment before; when you kneel and prostrate yourself not because you have to but because you must. Your knees and head bow of their own accord in the face of an overwhelming feeling of smallness. This priest asked for a miracle, the miracle of turning a dry cracker and some cheap wine into something divine, and, even though he had done it thousands of times before, he still felt overwhelming awe.
I know many people who gravitate towards partnership for the magic that it affords even the most mundane moments. Drinking coffee each morning becomes an act of communion. Going to bed each night becomes a quiet, perfect moment for confession of the day's trials. I have felt this perfect peace in union. I also wonder why all of my moments of true transcendence are alone, why my feelings are amplified in the vacuum of solitude. Is this a paradox?
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